


set your spirit free (it's the only way to be)

by verity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Condoms, First Time Topping, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Safer Sex, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't believe I'm having sex with you," Derek says, covering his face with a hand, voice weirdly and newly… fond?</p><p>Stiles has feelings about this. That is also a new development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	set your spirit free (it's the only way to be)

**Author's Note:**

> Scout served as my condom consultant, billtheradish beta'd, and Ashe and Clio audienced the beginning, too. SO MUCH LOVE FOR YOU ALL.

When Stiles turned 16, Dad sat him down and gave him a box of condoms. "Son," he said, "If you're having sex, I want you to be safe. But after this, you need to man up. If you're not ready to buy condoms for yourself, you're not ready to be having sex."

The condoms were ULTRA RIBBED FOR ULTRA SENSATION, which was more than Stiles had ever wanted to know about his dad. "Can I die now?" he said.

Dad slapped him on the back. "Good talk."

Stiles is now 21 and between one thing and another, like his extreme lack of action until college and the giant bowls of free condoms at the health center and in the Pride Alliance lounge, he's never actually bought condoms. The original box from Dad is under his bed at home somewhere, collecting mothballs, but they're probably expired and Stiles doesn't really want to check. He could do without reliving the trauma.

There are so many kinds, that's the problem, so many options. He stands in the aisle at CVS for five minutes before Allison sidles up to him. "Need help?"

"Oh my God," Stiles says, tilting his head to stare at the dusty, tiled ceiling. "Can you just… pick one?"

"I'm assuming anything 'for her pleasure' is out," Allison says. "This warming shit is honestly terrifying, don't mess with that. Lubricated is good, spermicidal is… you don't need that. Uh, who are these for?"

"You _know_ ," Stiles grits out, cheeks burning.

Allison sighs patiently. "Do you need the big dick condoms, Stiles?"

"Hey, you don't—"

"Buy two boxes," Allison says, shoving them both at his chest. "Congrats, now all your bases are covered."

—

"What are these?" Derek says, picking up the box of Magnums.

Stiles plucks at a loose thread on the rumpled comforter beneath him. He's not sure exactly why they're here, in his bedroom at Dad's, instead of Derek's house which has a giant bed and a washing machine and a substantially reduced likelihood of parental cockblocking. And Isaac, right, okay. "Look, Allison just thought—"

" _Allison_ ," Derek says.

They lock eyes for a moment before Stiles registers how Derek's shoulders are hunched in, his fingers digging into the cardboard box. So, Derek is freaked about this, too, and he didn't even buy the condoms. Stiles's chest swells with pride. He is officially the adult in this relationship. "Hey, look, we have condoms," Stiles says. "I bet they're not even exciting colors, you won't have to freak out about my neon green dick anymore."

Derek rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed next to Stiles. "It tasted like fake piña colada."

Free condoms: already Stiles is filled with a kind of condescending nostalgia. "Come on," he says. "If you want, you can put your dick in my butt."

"I can't believe I'm having sex with you," Derek says, covering his face with a hand, voice weirdly and newly… fond?

Stiles has feelings about this. That is also a new development.

—

Everything started at the end of spring break, when Stiles's Jeep died half a block from home and Derek got volunteered to drive Stiles back to Berkeley. "I'm not going to drive you the whole way," he said when he picked Stiles up. "I'll—drop you at Walnut Creek or something, you can take BART home."

"That would save you _half an hour_ ," Stiles said, shoving the basket of clean laundry into the back seat of the Camaro. "Come on, dude. I'll buy you dinner. We can go to the fancy vegan place where they make nuts into cheese."

"What," Derek said.

They got burgers instead, walked up and down Shattuck while they ate because there hadn't been room to sit. Derek got ketchup on the corner of his mouth and didn't notice it for ten minutes, so finally Stiles reached over and smudged it away with the tip of his thumb. "You're a messy eater," he said, gearing up for some—wolf joke, or something.

Derek caught his hand before Stiles could pull it away. "So are you."

"I know how to use napkins," Stiles said primly, although he could see his fingers perfectly well in the light: shiny with grease, mustard trapped in the cuticles, punctuated by his thumb with its telltale red smear. "I—"

"I wasn't done with that," Derek said. Then he cleaned off Stiles's thumb with one long lick.

They were standing in front of Walgreens, Derek backlit with all that blue light gleaming on white walls. Stiles had been in this Walgreens just over a week ago, buying Pop Chips to eat while he crammed for his Spanish test, and the juxtaposition of—Derek and Berkeley and the take-home midterm Stiles had barely looked at and _Derek's mouth on him_ —everything was dizzying; the world seemed unreal. Stiles was having an out of body experience, looking at himself and Derek and Derek's mouth and, okay, Derek wasn't licking him anymore, but he was still holding onto Stiles's hand, in a way that was intimate but not—

" _Excuse_ me," some girl said, shoving past them, messenger bag banging into Stiles's hip.

Stiles stepped a little closer to Derek, out of the middle of the sidewalk, same thing. "You want to come back to my place?" he said.

"We were just at your place," Derek said, squinting at Stiles. "Unless you left some stuff in th—"

"No, like—" Stiles sighed. He turned his hand in Derek's grip until he could clasp Derek's hand in his, palms pressed together. "I mean, if you want to lick more ketchup off my body, I wouldn't be opposed."

Derek stared at him for a long moment and then said, "I've had enough ketchup." He tightened his fingers around Stiles's, though.

—

Stiles came home two more times last semester to do his laundry. A four-hour round trip was infinitely preferable to the laundromat and cheaper than buying more underwear: at least, that's how he justified it to his dad, who gave the fresh hickey on Stiles's neck a pointed look and asked if Stiles was using protection.

"Yes," Stiles gritted out. "Let's talk about this again never?"

Supposedly, werewolves can't carry or transmit STDs. Which, fine, but Stiles has been so indoctrinated in safer sex practices over the last few years that he doesn't even mind being on the giving end of piña colada blowjobs anymore. He's not changing that up for hot werewolf hookups, or hot werewolf boyfriends, at least until he feels like he's not going to pass out from the embarrassment of saying _fluid bonding_ to anyone who hasn't sat through a tutorial on how to turn a condom into a dental dam.

"I've never, um—" Derek says, struggling to open the box of normal condoms with clumsy human fingers, "—done that before?"

"Butt stuff?" Stiles says.

Derek gives Stiles the least intimidating glare in the history of Derek Hale Glares, which is impressive because Stiles has seen Derek get alpha-eyed over Erica deleting _Bring It On 3_ off his DVR queue. "Not—that end."

Stiles has a brief reel of Derek-flavored bottoming porn splash across his brain that is both inspiring and makes his stomach churn with—okay, he's not going to get jealous of Derek taking it from a string of imaginary porn dudes, he's _not_. "Do you want to, though? Because—" Stiles flops back onto the bed so he can unbuckle his belt and start with the pants removal process. "I kind of—I've thought about it a lot. And I could—do you, next time."

"Okay," Derek says, staring down at Stiles, eyelashes full and dark like he's in a Cover Girl mascara ad. The condom box in his hands is twisted and nearly torn in half. "Yeah, I—I want to."

Stiles takes the condoms from Derek. "Maybe you should let me put it on you, though. If you claw a hole in it, that kind of defeats the purpose."

"What, you don't want me to knock you up?" Derek says. He can't keep a straight face; his downturny mouth starts tilting up at the corners halfway through. It's adorable.

Stiles is starting to think everything about Derek is adorable, much like how he started ironically liking the Spice Girls and two weeks later he was doing drunk karaoke and crooning the lyrics to "2 Become 1" like his life depended on it. He's even beginning to find Derek's bad jokes cute: this is the worst. "No," he says, tugging Derek toward him by the sleeve. "That's—I'm not ready to be a mom."

Derek kisses him, probably because he doesn't have a good comeback.

—

For an alpha—okay, Stiles hasn't had sex with any other werewolves, let alone any other alphas, he doesn't actually have any basis for comparison—for _Derek_ , Derek takes direction really well in bed. It didn't take him long to figure out the slowest and most torturous way to jerk Stiles off, he never uses too much teeth anywhere or too little, and if Stiles wants, he'll hold Stiles's hands above Stiles's head while they kiss. Stiles likes feeling blanketed, weighted down by Derek's bulk pressing him into the sheets.

They kiss like that for a while, and it's nice enough that Stiles forgets about the strip of condoms loose in the bed with them until Derek groans and grinds against Stiles's hip. Stiles is only half undressed, shirt tangled around his wrists and jeans kicked off at the end of the bed, and Derek is still wearing pants. "Take them off," Stiles says, legs scrabbling up around Derek's hips like that's going to help. "Take everything off."

"You still—" Derek makes this little breathy noise that— "I mean, we could, just—"

It would be easy to just rub off on each other like this, and it's kinda tempting, given how much Stiles likes Derek rutting against him. But he didn't suffer through Allison making him buy big dick condoms for nothing. "I want to you to fuck me," Stiles says. "Like, a lot."

Derek sits up, pulling on Stiles's shirt until it comes free, and starts stripping, undoing his belt and then shoving his pants and briefs down his hips in one smooth motion. Then he tugs Stiles's boxers off, pausing to press a soft kiss against Stiles's hip that makes Stiles's cheeks flush to match his dick. "Lift up," Derek says. He picks up one of the pillows that fell off the bed while they were making out. "It's—more comfortable, if you—"

Stiles pushes up, lets Derek wedge the pillow under his butt. He didn't think—he thought he'd just turn over, but this is fine, this is—great. "Yeah," he says, trailing his fingers down the inside of Derek's arm.

Derek opens him up carefully, one finger at a time, lots of lube. "I'm ready," Stiles says at one point, but he doesn't try to rush Derek, who has this intense, determined look on his face, like Stiles's asshole is a loaf of bread he's got to knead just right. Stiles has fucked one or two people who treated his ass like it was a Ramune bottle, so he does appreciate that. And Derek makes it good, too, teasing with his fingers; Stiles isn't sure whether Derek is doing that on purpose or just fumbling around, but god, god, " _God_."

"Okay." Derek drags the strip of condoms out from under Stiles's back. "I'm gonna—"

"Do it," Stiles says, and watches, hypnotized by Derek's lube-slick fingers fumbling with and then rolling on the condom; he doesn't need Stiles's help, after all.

Derek pushes in slowly, then all at once, gasps when he bottoms out. He's red all up his chest to the tips of his ears, and Stiles is so full, full of Derek and these feelings clawing at his chest; he can't even talk, just clutch at Derek's hips and rock forward like he can somehow get Derek further inside of him. That pushes Derek into action: he exhales deeply, starts fucking into Stiles, no rhythm at all, hips stuttering helplessly. "Stiles," he groans into Stiles's ear; Stiles is practically bent double, ankles hooked together behind Derek's back, dick pressed tight between them. "I'm not going to—"

"You don't have to," Stiles says, tipping back his head so Derek can suck another incriminating bruise into his skin. "You don't—we can do this, we can, again, as much as you want—"

"That a promise?" Derek says, wrapping his fingers around Stiles's dick.

"Yeah," Stiles breathes into Derek's hair, because, fuck, it is: he could do this forever and ever, Derek sliding into him, licking ketchup off his fingers, covering him up in his bed where everything's safe and warm and there are no monsters at all. "I—"

His orgasm takes him by surprise, rippling through him; he almost laughs.

—

"Do you want me to clean up?" Derek says, rubbing Stiles's back. After he pulled out and ditched the condom, Derek flipped them over so Stiles could doze lazily and how did Stiles not realize that Derek is a perfect human-being-slash-werewolf?

"I love you," Stiles says sleepily.

"You don't have to say that, just because—" Derek says sternly, hand stilling.

Stiles rubs his nose against Derek's shoulder. "I know," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did indeed [crib from John Green](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/485442-as-he-read-i-fell-in-love-the-way-you) to describe buttsex.
> 
> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr and my love for "2 Become 1" is completely unironic.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Podfic of) Set Your Spirit Free (its the only way to be) by Verity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662946) by [chemm80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemm80/pseuds/chemm80)




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